


Promise

by angelcatsiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Reader-Insert, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcatsiel/pseuds/angelcatsiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finds the reader having a panic attack and self harming. He's not too sure how to help, but tries his best, and ends up making a huge difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this last night after having a panic attack, and then finished it today, coincidentally just before I had another panic attack. I read back through it and it helped me a little. I know everyone experiences panic attacks differently, and this is how mine usually go.

You sat down on your bed and brought your knees up close to your chest, shaking and feeling way too hot even though it was midwinter, and the bunker was pretty chilly. It was getting difficult to breathe, and you reached down with one hand to clutch at the sheets, gripping them tightly. It didn’t help.

Dammit, not now. Your stomach hurt, a physical pain clenching and twisting in your belly, and you whimpered. Stupid panic attacks. The tears were streaming now, your breathing coming quick and short, your nails digging into your skin and leaving red scratches along your arms. You tried to focus on breathing, tried to relax, but it wasn’t helping. You glanced quickly around the room, your gaze settling on your bag in the corner.

Your soft cat plushie that you’d had as a child was in there; you’d never admit to Sam and Dean that you usually carried it with you everywhere. They’d probably laugh and tease you, tell you it was pathetic, and maybe they were right. But it comforted you, it brought back memories of being safe and happy as a child and it was soft and velvety, perfect for you to clutch close to your chest during panic attacks and dig your nails into, rather than scratching your own skin to shreds.

Scrambling to your feet, you got up to get the stuffed cat from your bag, only for your trembling legs to give way beneath you. You slumped to the floor next to your bed, the panic taking hold even more as you realised you couldn’t move. No no no no.

Deep breaths. Slow down. Try again.

You fought to relax, to slow your breathing, closing your eyes. Slowly. In and out. Try again.

You braced your hands against the floor, closed your eyes and tried to stand up. Your legs folded again instantly. You were stuck.

This time the panic was overwhelming. You couldn’t breathe, your hands clawing at anything they could find, until almost instinctively you reached into your pocket where your hunting knife was. You pulled it from your pocket without thinking and fumbled clumsily with your jeans, pulling them down until they were bunched around your knees, revealing your scarred thighs. Without even hesitating, almost without taking in what you were doing, you slashed across your thigh, once, twice, three times… you quickly lost count. By now you were dizzy, your head spinning, biting down hard on your left hand while your right hand dragged the blade across again and again. Still without thinking, you uttered a single word, your voice a raspy whisper. “Cas…”

You had barely heard yourself say it, but seconds later, the sound of flapping wings made you jump violently, almost dropping the blade. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You let out a whimper, clutching the blade close to your chest as Cas crouched down beside you. “Y/N. Give me the blade.”

No no no, you needed it. You shook your head frantically.

“Please, Y/N. It’s going to be alright. Just give me the blade.”

“I can’t,” you sobbed, gripping it so tightly that it began to cut into your fingers.

“Ok, Y/N, I won’t take it from you,” Cas reassured you, and you felt yourself relax slightly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You were about to shake your head no, when you remembered what you had tried to get up for. “My bag… the cat…”

Cas gave you a slightly confused look, but grabbed your bag and opened it. Understanding dawned on him as he found the fluffy grey cat plushie, and he handed it to you. You gripped it tight, close to your chest, your fingers knotting in the soft fur.

“Can I have the blade now?” Cas asked softly. He wasn’t forceful, but simply held out his hand, his blue eyes concerned, watching.

With the cat in your arms, something to cling on to, you felt safer, and so reluctantly, you held out the blade to him. Cas took it from you gently, tossing it to the other side of the room. “Thank you, Y/N.”

He knelt next to you on the floor, resting his hand lightly on your shoulder. “It’s going to be ok, Y/N. You’ll be ok. Try to take deep breaths.” He sounded a little awkward, not sure what to do, but his gravelly voice was comforting, and you tried to listen, struggling to breathe.

Castiel sat down beside you, one arm around your shoulders, his other hand resting on yours. “It’s alright, Y/N. It’s going to be ok. I’m here. Please, Y/N, breathe for me. One big deep breath.”

You tried to listen, tried to concentrate. Do it for Cas. You took in a gasping breath, letting it out in a rush.

“That’s better,” Cas praised you softly. “Keep trying.”

Slowly, gradually, you began to calm your breathing down, gripping your tiny cat in one hand and Cas’ hand in the other. As you began to calm down, you felt the cuts for the first time, and soon you found tears spilling from your eyes as the pain set in. “Cas, I’m so sorry…”

Cas pulled you into his arms as you sobbed, not hyperventilating this time, just crying your emotions out. You dropped the cat and clung to his trenchcoat tightly with both hands, your head buried in his chest as Cas began to gently stroke your hair, whispering to you softly. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but just hearing his voice was enough to calm you, and soon you were sitting up again, wiping your eyes.

“Do you want me to heal those?” Cas asked, glancing down at the cuts. “I can see you’re in pain.”

You shook your head. “Not yet… maybe later.”

Cas sighed. “Can I at least ease the pain a little?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Cas touched your leg gently, and you winced at the slight sting before the pain suddenly eased off. “Thanks, Cas.”

You sat there for a long moment, still shaking a little, Castiel’s arm around you, before he spoke. “You must be uncomfortable on the floor.” He stood up, holding out his hand to you, and you took it with a grateful smile. He pulled you to your feet, and then sat down on your bed this time. For the first time you realised that you were standing in front of the angel with your jeans half shoved down from your self-harming earlier, and you blushed scarlet, quickly pulling them up before you sat down next to him.

“Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong,” Castiel said at last. “What would make you hurt yourself like that?”

You began to fiddle anxiously with your sleeve. “It’s just something I’ve been doing for a while. It distracts me, and I don’t know, it helps somehow. It helps me cope with everything. Especially when I have panic attacks like that.”

Castiel took your hand again. “I understand. But please, Y/N, try to stop. You’re putting yourself in danger.”

You sighed in frustration. “But I’ve tried to stop, I really have. I just can’t do it. And I don’t…” you took a deep breath. “I don’t even know if I want to stop.”

But Castiel simply squeezed your hand tighter. “I’ll help you.”

You met his gaze as he continued. “Y/N, I’ll do everything I can to help. I won’t expect you to just stop, not immediately. But please talk to me, Y/N, and I’ll do my best. Talk to me before you hurt yourself if you can. If you can’t, talk to me afterwards. Please.”

You could feel tears springing to your eyes again, and Cas seemed to notice. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, Cas, I just… thank you. Thank you so much. I will talk to you, I promise. I’ll try so hard.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Cas replied with a smile. “Do you want me to tell Sam and Dean? They’d probably be better at this than me…”

“No, Cas, not yet,” you interrupted. “And you are good at this, you’ve helped me so much. Sam and Dean would probably laugh at me for this, anyway.” You reached down, picking up the toy cat from the floor. “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. It just helps to hold it. You don’t think it’s stupid, do you?”

Castiel shook his head. “Of course not. Anything that comforts you is not stupid, Y/N.”

Suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed with the angel’s kindness and understanding, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tight. “Thank you, Castiel.”


End file.
